


Timid Speech, Loud Words

by LamiasLuck



Series: Timid Speech [5]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Developing Relationship, Feelings Realization, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, M/M, Poetry, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-09 18:51:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19481890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LamiasLuck/pseuds/LamiasLuck
Summary: Eric asks the Host if he can teach him about creative writing, but both got more than they bargained for.Something changes in their heart. So what will happen to their comfortable friendship when their feelings take a turn?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote a lot of stories with these two, so be sure to read those first to get an idea of their dynamics! It's all in my Timid Speech series

Shuffling papers, the low buzz of radio equipment, a soothing voice. 

The common routine for the Host became one of the only ways to calm Eric down. Alongside reading in the library, Eric had also taken to listening the Host’s radio shows, where he did live readings of short stories he’s written. While the Host was very picky about having external disruptions ruining his radio sessions, he always allowed Eric to sit beside him when recording. The timid ego was never one to be disruptive or loud anyways.

So there he was, sitting next to the Host at his desk, he was resting his head with his eyes closed. The two were a couple inches away from each other, but both were still comfortable. The days of hardened personal bubbles were gone, washed away by months of working together and accepting boundaries. 

The Host put on a pair of headphones and cleared his throat. He placed a gentle hand on the middle of Eric’s back, who opened his eyes upon feeling him rub his back. 

“The Host is about to start recording, is that alright?” The Host’s polite way of saying: “Be quiet and don’t interrupt me”. Eric nodded and closed his eyes again, not sleeping, but instead allowing himself to get fully immersed into whatever story the Host would share. The Host finally pressed the power button on his equipment and began to speak into the mic.

“Good evening to any of those who may be listening. The Host would like to start off this night with some poetry he has recently written.”

Eric recalls the Host wanting to polish his poetry skills. Of course, the talent came naturally to him.

_ Plans become undone…  _

_ Expect the unexpected, _

_ Welcome surprises. _

A short haiku?

‘Today’s story must be a long one,’ Eric pondered to himself. 

And he was right, the Host continued with a psychological thriller story about the duality of a generic superhero-like character and the possible negative effects of such a simple mindset. The Host always knew how to deal with different settings and plotlines, it was something Eric quickly found himself admiring. 

The Host’s deep, smooth voice warped Eric into the story, an observer watching a world being created before his very eyes. He  _ loved  _ it. He was awfully receptive to the Host’s tonality. Dr. Iplier suggested that he might respond well to ASMR, but he never got the same soothing effect when compared to the Host. Perhaps it was because he was so attached to his friend, nothing could really replace what they had at this point. It was like a weird… dizzying sensation in his chest. Eric assumed that was normal.

Eventually, the Host wrapped up the somber story and bid his farewells. While the story may have not ended in the hero’s favour, he was more than content with his work. Eric opened his eyes and watched as he started to take down his equipment.

“What did you think of the Host’s story?” 

“As good as always,” Eric said with a smile. “I-I like idea, it was like, it-it felt real almost?” He pouted to himself at his inability to find the right words. He wanted to give the story the recognition it deserved, but never felt like he was on the same level. However, the Host was always grateful.

“Thank you, Eric. The Host is glad the message came across, he has been quite inspired lately.” He always lit up when he talked about his work, never bothering to hide his pride. 

“I wish I could write like you…” Eric suddenly grumbled. Immediately, he slapped his hand over his mouth and ducked his head down. “I’m sorry…! I-I didn’t mean, um, that-that was supposed to be in my head! I shouldn’t-”

“The Host can teach you how to write stories, if you want.”

Eric peaked his head up. He cautiously looked at the Host, searching for any sort of malice. He found none. “Really?” He asked meekly. 

“Of course, the Host would be honoured to help.” The Host couldn’t help but smile at the thought. “He has a grand number of tricks and strategies he’s learned over the years. It would be lovely to share them with you.” 

“As long… I don’t wanna bother you.”

“Nonsense, you never bother the Host. He can start helping you tomorrow, if that’s fine with you.” Eric nodded, all tension was lost and replaced with excitement. “Perhaps you should start with poetry, that should be a good starting point.”

Unsurprisingly, the Host was a great teacher. A few days had passed and he taught Eric basic writing lessons and the structures of various poem styles. Through eloquently worded encouragement and lots of patience, Eric began to write alongside the Host. The poems he wrote weren’t anything special. They were short and straight to the point, usually about animals or other light hearted topics. 

“Symbolism is crucial for most poems, though there is a fine line between ridiculous imagery and bland imagery. Your wording should not make the reader confused or bored, instead it should help them further understand your ideas.”

Eric was listening to every word intently. No one else read what he wrote besides himself and the Host, but the process was still nerve wracking. Every time he finished writing, he quickly gave it to the Host and barely looked at it. He always told the Host that he could throw the poems away when he gave them to him. Unbeknownst to Eric, the Host never dared to throw out any of his work, they all had a certain charm to them. The Host couldn’t help but smile whenever he read them.

Today’s poem was about the forest. 

“Wh-Why is this so, so hard?” Eric whined as he put his pen down in defeat.

“Do you not walk through the forest regularly?” Eric whined louder at the Host’s statement. 

“S-Still… it’s, I-I don’t know…” Eric trailed off in favour of rubbing his eyes. 

“Sometimes inspiration takes its time, which is always frustrating. When this happens try to visualize your idea’s setting, or perhaps think of other topics as a way to warm up your mind. Here,” The Host took Eric’s pen. “For today, the Host can write a few sentence starters to help your process.”

The Host shifted closer to Eric, exponentially closer. Now practically thigh to thigh, the Host wrote down some thoughts that could help spark some ideas. Eric tried to focus on the words the Host wrote but his mind seemed to prioritize the closeness of his friend. What are usually quiet, incoherent narrations suddenly became hypnotizing mantras. He clutched at his handkerchief nervously, trying to figure out his sudden infatuations. 

“Are you alright?” 

Eric snapped out of his daze and saw that the Host was done writing. 

“Ye-Yeah! I… I was just thinking of, of stuff to write. Yep…” He got his pen back just as the Host shifted back to his spot. The timid man ignored the odd, sinking feeling in his chest when he did so. 

Upon skimming through what the Host wrote, he actually got some ideas for his poem. His blocky printing contrasted with neat cursive as he began to write. It was simple, which was all Eric had the energy for tonight. The Host took the poem after his usual, “it’s not that good and you can throw it away if you want” speech.

That same dizzying feeling in his chest persisted the longer he stayed in the library. It didn’t feel like his usual panic attacks, it felt more docile. Confusing, but not panic inducing. 

“Host, I-I think I feel, I feel kinda sick.” Yes, that seemed to be the best conclusion. The Host paused from his work and turned towards Eric.

“Oh? Do you have a cold?” Before Eric could respond, the Host shifted closer and placed his hand on his forehead, checking his temperature. 

That feeling grew stronger. 

Eric felt his face flush hotter, which only got worse as he gazed at the concerned man’s face. He quickly backed away and ducked his head down. His breathing became quick, his heart beating quicker. 

“The Host does notice that your temperature is slightly higher than normal. You should go to Dr. Iplier if you are feeling unwell.”

Eric frantically nodded his head and excused himself. He weaved his handkerchief between his fingers as he practically ran through the halls. Before he ran pass Dr. Iplier’s office, he paused. After pondering about visiting, he finally shook his head and continued on. This wasn’t something that could be solved with medicine.

He made a beeline to his bedroom and promptly flopped onto his bed. He took a few minutes to steady his breathing while staring at the ceiling. What was he going to do?

“You ru-ruin everything… Yo-you’re so stupid!” Eric muttered to himself. “He-He’s gonna hate you, then, th-then everyone else will hate you!”

If he wasn’t panicking before he sure was panicking now. Slowly, he sat up and felt tears building up in the corners of his eyes. He’s only ever liked girls thus far, though he didn’t date that much. He never liked another guy like that… let alone one of his  _ only  _ close friends. 

The Host shouldn’t know about this. Eric concluded that there was no way in hell that the Host would reciprocate his feelings. What was he going to do about it then?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

All he needed to do was pretend everything was normal. Eventually these feelings would pass, right? He stopped the few tears threatening to fall from his face while sniffling slightly. The Host probably wanted to continue his writing lessons tomorrow. The omnipotent man was able to read him like a book, but at least Eric could fall back on the fact the Host thinks he’s sick. 

Maybe he should skip tomorrow’s lesson.

Eric’s mind was going crazy. He couldn’t sleep well last night, all he wanted today was to rest. Lots of time to think, lots of time to question his identity. As he looked around his room, his eyes were caught on something he had forgotten he put on his bedside table. A notebook. Specifically, a gift the Host gave him a couple days after he started learning about creative writing. Eric groaned and buried his face in his pillows.

It’s been one day and he could already tell he was incapable of pretending everything’s normal. Now he was overthinking everything! 

Eric was suddenly more aware of the Host’s casual touches. Subtle arm caresses, seconds long hugs, little to no personal bubbles. He almost fainted when the Host checked if he was sick. No one else was this close to him. The Host was never this friendly to anyone else. 

Without thinking, Eric sat up and grabbed his notebook. For a moment, he just stared at it, brushing his thumb across the smooth velvet-like cover. He rummaged through his drawer and found a pencil. Perhaps he needed an outlet, this could help him get over this quicker. The Host did say poetry was an excellent way to express one’s emotions.

With a shaky hand and an unsure mind, Eric began to write.


	2. Chapter 2

The Host sighed when he realized Eric was still bedridden from his sickness. Perhaps if he narrated more then he could have foresaw this sooner. He never considered himself a needy man, today was just a fluke he assumed. He has been spoiled with too many accompanied hours that it feels weird being alone. Yes, that’s what he needs, a logical explanation. 

With a pen and paper at hand, the Host got rid of any distracting thoughts and prepared to write. He’s running low on stories to tell on his radio show and needed to restock. He tapped his pen against the desk, waiting. It wasn’t like the stories were going to magically appear onto the paper, but it doesn’t take this long for inspiration to hit. 

The Host mumbled mindlessly about his familiar surroundings. Everything was the same, dull and uninspiring. Nothing was catching his attention. The sound of him tapping his pen against his desk only grew louder as time went on. He let his mind wander and tried to think of a topic to get his mind out of this hole. 

Oddly enough, he found inspiration through the kindness in his life. The kind, subtle gestures not many show him. Someone treating him like a human and not the monster associated with his past. Someone learning to find comfort in his presence when most only found fear. A smile that managed to stop everyone in their tracks. 

Eric’s smile. 

The Host gasped and stopped his narrations abruptly, his pen slipping from his grasp. He felt his face blush red, perhaps nearly as red as the blood steadily streaming from his eyes. He was breathing as if he ran a marathon. 

“Dear god… oh no,” He muttered in a panic. “No, no, no…”

He started to narrate again, this time trying to ground himself in the library. Nothing was helping. It always went back to him, to  _ Eric.  _ His voice, his habits, his smile.

His kindness.

He spent a long time getting to know Eric until he eventually got comfortable in his presence. At first, he thought he was helping Eric break down his barriers and get comfortable with the other egos, but it took awhile for him to realize Eric had the same effect for him. He wouldn’t trade what they had for the world… and he definitely wouldn’t trade it for these weird feelings.

The Host grabbed his pen with a far too shaky hand. He just needed to get this, whatever this was, out of his system. Right? 

_ The owl watches, but can only focus on you. _

_ Stuttered words pierce through the heart, _

_ A silent preacher. _

_ You have captured the hearts of dozens, _

_ Yet you focus on the broken owl.  _

_ The owl wants to express his gratitude, _

_ His song is broken, but heartfelt, _

_ He prays that you are able to decipher it.  _

_ Feelings of comradery grow into something stronger, _

_ Adoration. _

_ For once, the stubborn owl does not mind the change. _

“Nice poem, Host!”

“Do you not see the bigger problem here?”

Dr. Iplier raised an eyebrow at the Host’s frantic nature. 

“No…?” the doctor answered with uncertainty. He quickly skimmed through the paper again, but got no answer. “Did you want me to proofread this or something?”

“No, the problem is not the writing itself,” The Host said while shifting awkwardly. “It is the subject. The Host wrote this about Eric… He cannot stop thinking about him.”

Dr. Iplier nodded his head slightly and read over the poem once more, finally seeing the connections. “Oh, this is a love poem?” The Host crossed his arms and pressed his lips into a tight line, he nodded mutely. “You and Eric  _ are _ pretty close. So what are you going to do? Confess to him?”

The Host thought about the idea of telling Eric how he felt. He wanted to, he  _ really  _ wanted to, but it seemed like it would create too many problems. Eric probably didn’t like him like that anyways, best to keep this to himself. 

“It pains the Host, but it would be unwise to admit how he feels,” he said grimly.

Dr. Iplier gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Consider talking to Eric about this. Like I said, you two are close. Maybe it might end in your favour.”

_ “Maybe.” _

“Don’t think like that, Host. Try to think of the positives!”

“The Host will reconsider, but the situation still looks grim." He scratched the back of his neck. "He can’t talk to him today, Eric is bedridden due to his cold.”

Dr. Iplier gave him another confused look. He claimed that he didn’t know about Eric’s sickness and that he didn’t visit him yesterday. The Host was shocked for a moment, but he still decided to not visit Eric today. Eric’s nerves might be getting the best of him, confronting him now would only make things worse.

Dr. Iplier asked the Host to visit him again tomorrow, so that he could help with his bandages. Then, both men were quiet, unsure of how to act. Eventually, the doctor cleared his throat.

“So what’s with the owl?”

“Symbolism, doctor. Symbolism.”

The Host ran his hand through his hair as he walked into his office. He gripped his poem harshly, crinkling paper. With a sigh, he crumpled up his work and threw it in the garbage. There was next to nothing in his waste bin, his true feelings were left undisturbed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess I made both of them disasters, but who isn't a disaster from time to time? I imagine this seems like quite the rare pair, but it's pretty fun to work with! Last chapter will be out soon :D


	3. Chapter 3

“So what are you going to do?” Dr. Iplier broke the silence.

The Host frowned deeply in response. Dr. Iplier finished tying his bandages around his head and tsked at his friend.

“The Host still thinks it would be a bad-”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Dr. Iplier interrupted. “But clearly this is bringing you down. I haven’t seen you this confused in a while.”

“The Host’s feelings will pass eventually… This is for the best.”

“Is it really though?”

For once, the Host didn’t have a definitive answer. Blood continued to dye the fresh bandages red.

Eric opened the library doors. Small, hesitant steps eventually stood him before the Host’s office. He pressed his ear against the door. Nothing. Not even the mumbled sound of narrations. While confused, Eric let out a sigh of relief as he walked into the empty room. A folded piece of paper was clutched between Eric’s fingers, it was a poem he wrote for the Host.

In Eric’s eyes, the poem sucked. He rewrote it about a dozen times and used countless pages in his notebook. Even then, the paper was somewhat coarse due to how many times he erased and rewrote words. He gently placed the paper on the Host’s desk, treating it as if it were a thin glass. While not planned, this seemed like a better idea than what he had originally thought of, which was hastily giving the Host his poem and booking it.

Wait... was this a better idea? Maybe he should be more confrontationally about this? 

Oh no, he needed to rethink everything.

Eric began to pace around the office, quietly hyperventilating. He picked up the paper again and reread it. Oh god, it seemed like garbage! 

The library doors opened again, soon after the white noise of narrations echoed throughout the room.

Eric froze in place, wide eyed and shaking like a leaf. His mind tried to figure out a way to escape, but he couldn’t really hide from the omnipotent man. Just as the Host opened his office door, Eric stood up straight and hide his poem behind his back.

“Eric? What are you doing here?”

“Um, I was…! I-I was just, j-just,” Eric continued to ramble, which would have been normal for the timid man, but the Host could tell something was wrong. He was backed into a corner. A crucial part of his life was going to be ruined because of his childish idea. His childish feelings. The Host could only walk a few steps closer to Eric, before he burst into tears.

“I”m so sorry, ‘m s-sorry,” Eric repeated as he hiccuped through his sobs. He offered the paper with trembling hands. “I can’t, I can’t help it… I’m sorry.”

The Host took the paper and read its contents carefully. He made an under the breath comments about how rough the paper was, Eric wanted to cry more.

_ I use to keep a lot of secrets, _

_ But you can read me like a book. _

_ Now I keep the biggest secret that I think I regret, _

_ And you probably already know how much courage it took, _

_ To admit that I like you. _

The Host was speechless, he muttered the poem’s contents again and again. He walked towards his waste bin, not throwing out the paper like Eric thought, but instead grabbed a crumpled piece of paper. It was his own love poem, he tried to smooth it out the best he could and gave it to Eric. Tears accidentally fell onto the messy paper, but Eric could still read the clear message. He practically hugged the paper to his chest after reading its eloquent words.

Eventually, the Host spoke again, almost out of disbelief. 

“The…” He steadied his unnaturally shaky voice. “The Host is glad you feel this way.” A nervous smile dawned on his lips. “He reciprocates your feelings, he should have told you sooner.”

Eric nearly tackled him with a hug. He buried his face in the Host’s chest, getting tears on his trenchcoat. Still, the Host tightly hugged back, soothingly running his hand through the sobbing man’s hair in an attempt to comfort him.

“I’m scared.” Eric muffled voice pierced through the Host’s heart. “I’m so scared. What am I gonna do?” Words directed more so to himself than the Host.

“Eric _and_ the Host can figure this out. _They_ can get through this together.”

After a couple seconds, Eric pulled back slightly to look at the Host, nodding hopefully. In return, the Host gently held his face with one hand and wiped away any stray tears. Eric leaned into his touch. A quick, split second, kiss was placed on Eric’s forehead. The Host smiled contently as Eric buried his face in his chest again, flustered.

“The Host really cares about you, Eric.” He rested his chin on top of the flustered man’s head, massaging circles across his back. “He will always be there to support you.”

“I really care about you too, a-a lot. I wanna be there for you too…!”

They had taken the next step into their relationship, quite a big one too. Things were going to be slow, but both of them didn’t mind. Different, but comfortable.

“Thank you for the poem,” Eric said after they eventually released from each other’s hold. “Can’t believe we both wrote something,” He laughed awkwardly.

“You are welcome, but the Host apologizes for its horrid state. Would you like him to rewrite it for you?”

“No, it’s okay,” He answered, looking at the crumpled sheet. “I still really like it! It makes mine look stupid though…”

“Nonsense, the Host would argue that yours is beautiful. He will cherish this forever.”

Eric became flustered all over again. The Host narrations gave him the beautiful image of Eric embarrassed and hiding his face with his handkerchief. An image worth a thousand words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, this little adventure ends.
> 
> It was fun to write, but I've never written romance before so sorry for its amateur nature lol. Will I write more couple nonsense with these two? Absolutely, I have at least two more ideas for this!

**Author's Note:**

> I'll try to update this as soon as possible! I'm not the best at this, but I sure am trying my best lol
> 
> Tumblr: https://lamiasluck.tumblr.com


End file.
